


Ripen

by PersephonePenguin



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Rumbelle Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 17:03:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersephonePenguin/pseuds/PersephonePenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumbelle Secret Santa gift for tickly-thetrollydwarf, who asked for Hades!Rumple and Persephone!Belle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tickly-thetrollydwarf](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tickly-thetrollydwarf).



> Thank you to princess tiannah who very kindly offered to beta this for me. Tickly, I really hope you enjoy this, it was so much fun to write. May you have a wonderful Christmas Season, and a very Happy New year.
> 
> Also, thank you to the amazingly organized crankynerdgirl, who has arranged the secret santa. 
> 
> Happy Christmas, dearies!

For as long as Belle could remember, the lands that belonged to her Papa had grown poppies. As far as the eye could see, from the topmost tower of Sir Maurice's keep, the land was covered with meadows of red, they wafted, vibrant and delicate in the coastal breezes.

When war came, as sometimes it must, the poppies became even more highly valued; not just as the towns main source of income, but for the relief from pain that the black seeds could bring to an agonised soldier.

The maidens from the town, who now toiled in the fields since their men had been called to fight, said that there had not always been fighting and bloodshed in the Enchanted Lands, once upon a time there had been peace and harmony. Even then, they said, poppies had still grown.

Belle worked with them in the fields. Since the Ogre Wars had taken the menfolk to neighboring countries- in the name of defence, it was not only the social barrier of sex that crumbled and fell but that of rank also.

She did not mind it. There was something peaceful about quietly filling a hessian sack with brittle poppy heads. The women chattered amongst themselves, including the young noblewoman in their easy talk. Perhaps they thought she ought not be there, her high rank traditionally precluding her from manual labor, but traditions and ceremonies were fading fast in these strange times. With Sir Maurice leading the men to war, and her mother gone since her birth, there was no stern but loving eye to pass judgement on Lady Belle's conduct.

The part of Belle that had been raised to be solely ornamental, oftentimes rejoiced that the beautiful petals of the poppies were ripped off and discarded as soon as the heads were harvested. It was a goodly thought, that such a fair bloom should be prized for what was inside; those useful tiny black seeds that relieved the pain of the suffering. In this strange world of war, where necessity dictated that a woman, even a beautiful woman, should be useful rather than merely decorative; Belle hoped that one day, she too might be like these flowers. It would be a bright future in which her face and figure might be ignored and, instead, her quick mind be asked to really do something that would make a difference in the world.

Having filled her sack, Belle crossed the meadow to the long wooden building that was used to dry the heads. It was her favourite part of the harvest. A low stool might be sought, in the company of the others as they skillfully slit the heads of the ripe flowers and let time and warmth do the rest. There was little Belle loved more than a good story and there were many to be heard in the drying house. It was old Cleo who spun the best tales, she needed no written word for reference, she simply plucked the words from the air and painted glorious pictures with them.

Today’s tale was already being told to a group of ten or so, all busy with their knives and listening attentively. Months ago, when Belle had first worked in the fields, she had marvelled at how the workers could carry on with the poppies and not become completely lost in the story. Clio had often cast an amused glance at the idle knife in her Ladyship's dainty fingers and the rapture on her pretty face. Belle had learnt of course, to split the poppy head, correctly, without even needing to think on it, which left her mind free to revel in the wonders of Clio's craft.

As she sat down with her bag, the other women nodded respectfully. The old rules may have been left by the wayside, but who knew how temporary that might be? Sir Maurice might return victorious against the ogres and then it would all go back to the way it was before with the LeFay family commanding the deference and fealty of the peasant folk. Old Clio, her body withered and bent, was telling of the Dark One, a mighty sorcerer from far away. He had many names, Rich One, Dark One and The Spinner to name but a few. It was his actual name, Rumpelstiltskin, that held the power. Some even whispered, that he was the Lord of the dead- waiting to snatch your life and soul with the slightest provocation. Just because his name was known, did not make it a sensible idea to call it, Clio cautioned. It was said that those who dealt with him, who were touched by his magic paid a hefty price in the end. It was much better, she said, to face your problems head on, rather than give in to the temptation to let magic fix them.

Belle had heard the myths and legend of the Dark One before. Her nurse had told them often when she was still in leading strings. It was the way of things, to teach the young to respect and revere the magical creatures of the world, better that than to risk one touch you with magic and keep your soul in a jar forevermore. 

The young Lady Belle, said her nurse, had reason to be more cautious than anyone. It had been rumoured that her dear late mother, the Lady Estella Caeruleus, had been whisked away by the fairies after Belle was born. No sign of Sir Maurice's fancy woman had been seen since. Belle had asked her father about her mother once, but he had looked grave and was silent- she did not like to press him.

Her nurse had been overzealous, perhaps, in drilling her charge in the rules with dealing with magic beings, Belle observed once, when she turned twelve, that magicians and wizards might well be the gods of ancient times the way the people feared and grovelled before them. She added audaciously, 'and I have never seen one, so I don't really believe they can exist! What if it is all just nonsense? Then I shouldn't need to know to not eat enchanted food or to not wander into a circle of toadstools.' 

Nurse had turned a scandalized eye to her. 'Fie! Young Miss. Ye never set foot on the top o' a mountain, neither. Does nay mean 'tisn't there. Mark my words, if your poor Mama hadn't fell into a fairy circle, she'd still be with us today and Sir Maurice'd less than likely let you run as wild as he does!'

Belle had rolled her eyes then, had been switched for it too, but even now, at twenty, took care where she stepped when walking in a wood.

Belle finished her task before Old Clio ended her tale, a gripping adventure of a prince who had breached the Dark Castle in order to steal a three headed wolf and was caught in the act by Rumpelstiltskin himself. She had no excuse to linger and so caught up another sack and headed back to the fields. She would fill one more bag, she thought, before heading back to the keep for supper. Belle thought longingly of her warm bed and hearth. The sun was sinking lower in the sky and as daylight was fading, the air became chilled and Belle drew her cloak about her tightly. As with most of her clothing, it was made to compliment her eyes and not to keep out the cold whilst laboring in a poppy meadow.

She made her way to the very far edge of the field, intending to work her way back towards the town as she picked the heads. She could dimly make out a few other workers some distance away, Belle waved her hand but they did not see her.

Her mind wandered, as it did so often doing this work. The petals she yanked off were crushed beneath her boots as she steadily made her way along. Belle thought of her dear father, who was never far from her thoughts, and wondered if perhaps he might send a letter to her tomorrow. He did not get much time to write, occupied as he was in aiding the king in the strategies of warfare, but periodically he would send a note to assure her of his safety and his love for her.

She did not observe the strangeness of the poppy until her hand had reached forward to pluck it, when she did she startled and drew back. In general, the flowers used for making pain reliever were red; sometimes she saw white ones and, seldom, yellow ones. Disbelieving her own eyes, Belle reached forward a finger tip to touch the bloom, to her frowning disbelief her suspicions were confirmed.

This poppy was _solid gold_. It did not sway gently in the breeze, but in the dim light of dusk that was the only indicator of its false nature. Belle, entranced, reached forward and grasped it in her hand. The metal was cold and hard, these petals would not crush in her hand. 

The Lady looked up to call over the other workers, only to see that they had all made their way home for the night. The light had faded faster than she had realised. An eerie discomfort settled itself in Belle's mind and raced down her spine. She felt watched. 

As casually as she could, she stooped to pick up the half full sack that she had dropped, her alarm increasing sharply when she heard footfall behind her. Gathering her courage, she twisted and looked up, hoping to see a familiar maiden or townsperson. To her dismay, she saw no one. It was an open field, there was neither place nor cause for a person to conceal themselves. Yet Belle had _heard_ footsteps, she was certain of it, unless the poppy fumes were addling her senses, there was some dark mischief afoot.

She did what any sensible girl would do. She hitched up her skirts and ran. As soon as she did so, she heard the sound of feet behind her again, matching her pace, she dared not look. Screaming, and as petrified as she had ever been, she raced through the flowers, uncaring that she trampled many of the poppies beneath her feet. The ground groaned and creaked beneath her; a great crack opened up in the earth. Unable to dodge it, Belle stumbled and tripped, falling flat on her face.

Before she could roll and raise herself up again, two hands gripped her arms forcefully and held her there, pressing her to the dirt. She heard a high, eerie giggle echoing in her ears. Looking down at her arms she saw the black clawed, scaled hands of a monster. Dark spots clouded the edge of her vision as she was flipped over firmly. She could make out the faint shape of a man's head and shoulders peering down at her, before blackness prevailed and with a petrified groan, Belle fainted.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing that Belle became aware of, when she regained consciousness, was the sound of a fire crackling in a grate. The second, was that she was warm and very comfortable. Thirdly, before she even opened an eye, she _knew_ for certain that she was not at home. Home smelt mustier, more floral and the air felt damper, for even with many roaring fires, there was no keeping a castle entirely dry.

Belle opened her eyes.

She blinked.

She closed her eyes again.

'There's no getting round it, dearie! You'll have to wake up sooner or later. Might as well do it now.' 

Shrieking, she jumped off the bed that she had been lying on. 

A slightly built, golden skinned man sat casually on a chair by the fireplace. She supposed he must be a man. He looked like a man...mostly. She shook her head in disbelief.

'Who _are_ you?' She blurted out. Her heart was racing and the situation was so surreal that she wasn't completely sure she wasn't dreaming. Perhaps she was. Perhaps she had fallen asleep listening to one too many of Old Clio's stories. It was known that over exertion did strange things to the mind, possibly even dream up this strange little man before her, she shouldn't work so hard. Belle surreptitiously clenched her fist, digging her fingernails into her palm and then exclaimed at the pain of it. 

She was not dreaming. 

Belle swallowed. Her throat felt dry and raw, her legs barely supported her. She sank back down to sit on the edge of the richly covered bed. The man by the fire watched her.

'Is that _really_ your only question, dearie?' he asked, his voice was strange- high for a male and strangely accented. 'You are magically, impressively, wrested from your homeland, transported across countless legions of land and sea and my name is all you want to know?' He cocked his head to one side, considering her, then shrugged with nonchalance before swinging his legs to the floor and standing up. He gave a flourishing bow. 'Rumpelstiltskin, at your service, your Ladyship.' 

' _Are_ you?' She said flatly. Hysteria bubbled up now, close to overflowing. If she started to cry, would she ever be able to stop? Belle screwed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth until she felt a little calmer. It took several minutes of deep, calming breaths.

When she opened her eyes, the little man was still watching her. She stared back at him. Rumpelstiltskin. Dark One. Some said he hovered between the realms of death and life, that he was Lord of the dead. Looking at his hollow eyes, his black garb and the very obvious power that he exuded, Belle could well believe it. She was in very real danger.

'Are you going to kill me, sir?' She knew enough to be scrupulously polite- her dearest nurse had told her enough for that.

Rumpelstiltskin crossed the room to where she sat on the bed and she blanched. A gnarled, blackened fingernail was put underneath her chin and inexorable pressure applied to lift her face. Belle stared at him, pale and wide eyed. He looked at her searchingly for a moment and grinned with wicked satisfaction.

'Do you know, dearie, that its almost impossible for a human to have eyes of your particular shade? They are very,' and here he paused, sneering, ' _pretty_ of course, but something of a giveaway for magical lineage.'

'Wh.. _what_?!'

He tutted, still grinning so gleefully it was almost certainly malicious. 'Let us just say, little lady, that I took you to flush out a rival. You may be here for a short duration, or it may take a century or so. I'm not going to kill you, _use_ you or do any lasting damage so you may as well save the maidenly wailing and weeping for when its called for.'

'I wasn't going to!' Belle shot at him, quite forgetting that it had been a close run thing when he'd announced his name.

He giggled and Belle flushed at the derision on his face. 'Well aren't you quite the little heroine, if you're the sort that gets angry instead I'd advise against excessive violence. I can hold a grudge like you wouldn't believe,' Rumpelstiltskin made towards the door, an ornately carved oaken affair with gold handles. 'Make yourself comfortable, dearie. I'll send you up some supper.'

His hand was on the door by the time Belle registered his words. 'Wait! Please.' He looked impatient and she said desperately, 'Please. My Papa. Will you at least tell him I'm safe? I don't....I should be a much more docile prisoner if you would.'

A flicker of interest lit his face at her plea, 'are you attempting to make a deal with me, girl?' he enquired. 'You'll have to do better than that.'

'Well...I'll clean your castle then. Or cook, perhaps. What would you like?' She asked, reasonably.

He looked at her thoughtfully, silent for so long that she thought he might dismiss her request out of hand. 'You may fetch me fresh straw,' he said at last, 'to my wheel.' 

Belle, relieved, attempted a smile. 'Thank you.'

The smile clearly astonished him, he frowned at her and shifted nervously on his feet, ready to flee the presence of this clearly deranged female who would smile upon a monster. Rumpelstiltskin opened the door and paused before passing through it. 'I'd already left a letter in any case, you know. I don't imagine he'll find it particularly comforting.' He let out another nervous sounding trill of laughter and left Belle alone with her turmoiled thoughts.

She did not care to know what was in that letter, in one short conversation he had been taunting enough, doubtless he would be unable to pass up the opportunity to drive Papa insane with worry and mock him for it, mercilessly.

Her safety having been more or less assured, Belle felt more able to eat the food Rumpelstiltskin sent up. He had meant it literally, no maid appeared carrying the heavy gilt tray, it simply materialised on a little table by the fire. She had stared in fascination at it for several long moments, before the delicious smells tempted her to partake. Golden tray, golden plates, pots and cutlery all gleamed warmly at her. Surely the king himself did not possess such lavish treasures as these! It was all too incredible. 

Belle knew that the food was delicious, but barely tasted it. She ate it for the simple sake of nourishment, the war had taught her to waste nothing. Food at home was bland but hearty, the fare Rumpelstiltskin casually fed a prisoner was a worthy feast for a King. 

By the time she had swallowed the last dregs of her crystal wine glass, Belle could barely keep her eyes open. The fatigue came upon her so swiftly and powerfully, that she suspected that her drink had been tampered with. Her weariness was so acute that she could not even bring herself to panic.

She made herself stand and walk to the bed, slowly pulling off her boots that were still muddy from the poppy fields of home. Struggling briefly with the laces of her dress, she soon abandoned the effort and opted to crawl under the covers as she was. No sooner did her head touch the silken, downy pillows than she was fast asleep.

 

\------------------------------

When she awoke, the fire had burnt low in the hearth and the curtains had been pulled back to let in the light of day. The sky outside was grey and heavy with snow. Belle, intrigued, left the bed to see through the leaded panes of glass. She had never seen snow before. Her home was so close to the coast that even in the coldest part of winter, the only whiteness on the ground came from the hard frosts that killed the flowers and made the earth too hard to till. She looked at the swirling flakes in the sky, at the deep drifts of snow that covered the very extensive castle grounds and for a moment was so captivated by its bleak beauty that she was _glad_ to have witnessed it. It did not ease the steadily growing ache in her heart that longed for her home and her father, but she had ever been a curious creature, and this new wonderment was a whole new adventure.

When she eventually turned back from the window, the bed had been made and a fresh gown laid out on the counterpane. She had heard no one enter and supposed that Rumpelstiltskin's magic must be at work, either that, or the castle was enchanted. As she dressed, she mused to herself that the _preferable_ option, was that the castle saw to her needs. It was not a comfortable thought that _he_ might be watching her movements. Rumpelstiltskin was man enough that the very thought scandalised her.

Once she had finished dressing in the soft, lavender tinted gown, Belle looked about her for a mirror, seeing none she frowned. A closer search of the room revealed that although clothing was supplied in abundance, the necessary items to complete a thorough toilette were absent. She was used to readying herself for the day without the aid of a maid, but mirrors were invaluable in doing so. Her stomach was complaining for want of food, however, so she had to comb it as best she could with her fingers and be satisfied with that.

The golden supper tray from the night before had been cleared away, so Belle made her way through the doors in search of either her captor or a servant who might direct her to the kitchens.

She half expected to encounter a guard at her door as she cautiously peeped out, but to her surprise, no one stood to bar her exit. A wide corridor stretched out in either direction and a thick, carved baluster opposite separated it off from a expansive vestibule which was open to four floors. She saw the sweeping stairwell which led down to the ground floor and, looking out for any sign of inhabitants, Belle made her way down it. It wasn't until she stood on the bottom step and looked up that she realised two things. Firstly, Rumpelstiltskin's castle was immense, second and more importantly, it was absolutely silent.

There was no one here.

No haughty butlers, no gossiping chambermaids, no footmen, chefs or guards. Nobody to keep such large place bustling and running smoothly. The castle was deathly quiet.

'Hello...? Is there anybody here?... Hello...?' Belle called out, hoping that she might be mistaken. Only her echo broke the stillness. She waited, feeling unaccountably close to tears. There were so many doors to get lost behind. 

Deciding to return to her room, if she could find it again, and forget breakfast altogether; Belle turned to ascend the stairs and screeched when she promptly collided with the leather clad chest of the master of the castle.

He looked delighted at the sight of her gasping for breath and wide eyed. The grin on his face was unrepentantly amused and it occurred to her, as she waited for her heart to stop pounding, that he actually enjoyed terrorising people. 

Belle removed her hands from over her heart and planted them on her hips.

'Was that absolutely necessary?'

Rumpelstiltskin skipped around her on the stairs and twittered a laugh. 'I can't imagine what you mean, dearie. Jumpy little thing aren't you? I see you found suitable clothing at least, can't have you looking like a peasant, now can we?'

'You frightened me to death!' she said, indignant.

His grin grew wider, showing more of his rotten teeth than she cared to see. 'Hardly, your kind don't die of fright, I should know, I've been trying to work out how to kill one of you off for centuries.' There was something dark and ugly in his eyes and Belle stepped hastily away. There must be no forgetting who this man was.

'Thank you for the dress.' She said quietly, pleased that her voice did not waver.

His grin faded and he looked discomforted for a moment, he waved a hand about in the air, gesturing that she should follow him. 'Have you everything you need? Is your chamber to your liking?'

She followed him into a dining room, breakfast stuffs were laid out in readiness. He sat in a winged chair at the head of the table and flicked a finger to a chair at the foot. Belle seated herself carefully before replying.

'Yes, thank you...it's far grander than anything I have ever seen. I should like a comb and mirror, but the rest of it is...it's beautiful.' She was aware that she said the last part a little ungraciously, feeling resentful that she had been abducted to this isolated, if sumptuous place. Honesty demanded that she not complain of the accommodations when asked, but all she really wanted, was to be returned home.

The Dark One shook his head, 'I'm afraid I can't oblige your vanity, my Lady. Mirrors are few and far between here. They can be used for nefarious purposes that would make your blood run cold. If you need confirmation that you are still the fairest in the land, you'll have to make do with a shiny teapot, a mirror could make you the subject of all sorts of nosy spying.'

Belle was momentarily speechless, she hadn't been accused of vanity since she was a child. She concentrated fiercely on buttering her toast perfectly rather than respond rashly. She cleared her plate and had poured herself a second cup of tea before she felt equal to speaking again. 

'Is that how you came to take me, then?' she said, as if there had been no pause in the conversation.

'What?' he looked discomforted and part of her rejoiced to see it. 

'The mirrors. For whatever reason you abducted me, you must have seen me before. Did you watch me through your magic mirrors, Rumpelstiltskin?' A thought occurred to her. 'You're not...you aren't in love with me are you?'

Rumpelstiltskin dropped the bread roll he was holding. It fell to the floor and bounced. He ignored it.

'In _love_?!' He spluttered. ' _No_.'

'Why then? There must be some reason you wanted me here. I've done you no wrong, never even spoken your name before you grabbed me in the field. What else am I to think when you have treated me so well?'

'I can soon change _that_ if it bothers you, dearie.' he snarled, 'theres a handy dungeon a few floors down, how about a spot of torture, hmm? Would that satisfy you that you are simply a means to an end and that your _fair_ image hasn't been sullied by longing glances of unrequited _passion_ ?' he jerked his chair back from the table and stalked across to the window that dominated the room. He did not look at her.

'Forgive me. I didn't mean to offend you. What end? Will you tell me? I want to know why I have been taken from my father's land. Surely you can understand that? He'd do anything to keep me safe, he won't ever stop looking until he finds me again. He will do nothing else but search until he has me back.'

Rumpelstiltskin turned his head towards her, but although he looked at her, his eyes were distant as though he were many miles away. When he spoke, his voice was level and quiet and she knew instinctively that the childish titters and affectations were a facade- this was his true voice. 

'Yes. Yes, I can understand that. If all goes according to plan, you will be reunited with your father... eventually. You are here to set off a chain of events that will flush out an old adversary of mine, no harm will come to you.' he broke off, taking a shuddering breath before recollecting himself. 'In the meantime, my Lady, you may have the run of my castle. Think of it as an adventure, if you like.'

Belle, moved to compassion, for reasons that she could not name, rose also and walked over to him. 

'Thank you, sir. It means so much to me- that you say I shall see Papa again. I shall be easier knowing that.' She smiled at him. 'I'll bring you your straw and try to be a good guest, I hope you don't mind if I seek you out sometimes, I need to have some company and this place...it's beautiful but so very lonely.'

He sucked in his breath when she smiled at him and looked astounded when she said she would want his company. When she spoke of loneliness Rumpelstiltskin's mouth twisted and he looked out to the snow again.

'Lonely. Yes. It is very lonely.'

After that first moment of honesty, she found that she forgot to be afraid of him and in turn, he forgot to be quite so frightening.


	3. Chapter 3

Months passed quickly in the Dark Castle. The snow outside did not abate but Rumpelstiltskin's frosty hospitality had begun to thaw a little. He permitted Belle to ask her most burning questions about himself and often seemed amused at some of the stories that mortals told of him.  
It seemed to Belle that he made good use of the myths about him. Essentially, he said, he was a deal maker and inciting uncontrollable fear in your victim went a long way to turning a profitable trade. She had raised her eyebrows at that and indicated the piles of golden thread that were unceremoniously dumped in dark, forgotten corners.  
'They call you the Rich One, you know. What need have you for more wealth, you already have more gold than it is possible to spend.'  
He was sat at his wheel but since she had come in bearing armfuls of straw, was doing very little spinning. He seemed more interested in watching her flit around the room, examining his treasures.  
'Riches mean more than wealth, dearie; and wealth itself is measured in more than gold.'  
'Why make deals with the desperate then?' she asked, curious.  
Rumpelstiltskin made a show of threading the straw onto the wheel, obviously considering her question.  
'Because I am not the only creature that responds to the desperate, and my goal is a lofty one. Power must be traded for and every eventuality _carefully_ planned out.' His eyes took on that distant gleam and his hand rested gently on the smooth wood of his wheel, he seemed to speak almost to himself. 'Failure is not an option for me.'  
'Failing at what?' she tried, but was unsurprised when he did not answer, soon lost once again in his spinning.  
Several days later, something momentous happened. It was a usual day for Belle, in the morning she ate with Rumpelstiltskin, after which she attempted to explore the castle, usually getting nowhere- but the exercise did her good and it cheered her to follow her curiousity. After lunch, the two stood side by side at the window in the dining room and looked out at the snow. It was companionable and not for the first time since the Dark One had hauled her out of the poppy field, she thought how strange it was that she should so little mind his company.  
Taking a sip of hot tea Belle turned to smile at him. He was always most amenable to answering her questions after lunch and if she was to be stuck in a lonely castle, then couldn't she at least find out all she could about him? He was certainly a mystery to be uncovered.  
Rumpelstiltskin affected long suffering patience and set down his cup.  
'Very well then, out with it! What new information does your inquiring little brain seek to weasel out of this old monster?'  
He sounded almost pleased.  
'The jars. Clio says,' Belle had told him all about Clio weeks ago, 'she says that you collect the souls of those who have been touched by your magic, and that you store them in little jars. So where do you keep them? I've not found that room yet, I should like to see what a soul looks like.'  
Rumpelstiltskin blinked.  
'Humans certainly have a degree of imagination, don't they? I can collect souls yes, but harvesting them is horribly fiddly and subject to a certain... _rules_. My magic must have more than touched a person, it needs to have wended its way deep inside them. To forfeit their soul to me at death, they'd have to have done something outrageously stupid like eaten bespelled food or taken a fatal wound by a magical weapon.'  
'Oh.' Belle digested this. ‘So will you take my soul when I die, then? I have been eating with you for months now'  
Rumpelstiltskin stiffened beside her. 'You sound so _calm_ about the possibility of a fate worse than death. Souls are not meant to be confined, dearie- they are the freest, most powerful part of us. Your soul is your own, and when you die it will fly free and unfettered. The food is brought by magic but not made by it.'  
Looking at his face, which no longer seemed so excessively ugly to her, Belle realised that she had distressed him and laid the hand that was not holding her teacup, on his arm in silent apology.  
'So where do you keep them then? _Is_ there a room of souls here?'  
His head was bent, his arm underneath her hand was rigid. The hand on his other arm was hovering above her fingers, hardly daring to cover them. For a brief moment, his eyes drifted closed.  
Eventually he cleared his throat and answered her, the moment broken.  
'Follow the corridor from your room to the very end, there are two sets of doors there. Behind one of them lies the room you seek, the other leads to the storage where I keep the pelts of the children I hunt.'  
Utterly aghast and horrified Belle dropped her teacup to the floor and tore her hand from his arm.  
'Wh-what?'  
Rumpelstiltskin, comfortable again, grinned fiendishly. 'That was a quip. Not serious.'  
To cover her confusion, Belle stooped to the tea cup that had fallen, it had chipped and she looked up in dismay.  
'I'm so sorry, its chipped.' she said, offering it for him to see. She was not afraid that he would punish her, he'd not harmed her thus far after all. Still, it was a beautiful piece of china, now ruined.  
'It's just a cup,' he said, lifting her chin with his finger and looking deeply into her eyes. His glance flicked briefly down to her mouth- for a moment she wondered if he was going to kiss her and couldn't decide if she minded or not.  
He didn't, though. Instead stepping back abruptly and returning to his wheel.  
'The end of your corridor, dearie!'  
Thus dismissed and feeling her cheeks bloom with colour, Belle turned and fled the room.  
Once she came to the set of doors Rumpelstiltskin had directed her to, Belle felt she could be forgiven for the tight knot of anxiety that settled in her stomach as she pushed them open.  
Whatever she had been expecting to see, it was not _this_.  
A library.  
Not simply a library, an immense room filled from shining floor to lofty ceiling with more books than she had ever imagined to exist. Belle choked out a delighted squeak and did not attempt to check the tears that brimmed in her eyes.  
A room of souls, indeed.  
She heard his light, quick step behind her and turned to face him, her earlier awkwardness quite forgotten. A room of _souls_... this man, this fabled monster... _understood_.  
She stepped forwards and offered him her hands. She couldn't contain her delight. Rumpelstiltskin looked startled and then understanding.  
He smiled slightly and spoke in a mellow, lulling tone, 'Every story, every book ever written is in this room, my dear. Each of them precious, each pored over by their writers. A little of themselves went into these pages, dearie- true treasures.' He sounded as sincere as she had ever heard him and to hear him say _such_ things...she started to love him in that moment, not obviously or passionately, but deep down true love buried itself and took firm root in her heart.  
She couldn't speak, and squeezed his hands- lost for words by the splendour of a library.  
His attitude changed an instant later, his face hardened and his body tensed. He did not release her hands and she felt their strength as each muscle in his body became taut. Rumpelstiltskin's eyes, always so unnaturally large darkened and swirled with power.  
She clutched at his fingers, worried, for judging by the expression on his face he was in considerable pain.  
'Rumpelstiltskin! Oh! What's happening?' she cried.  
As soon as the magic, for she was sure it was that, had come over him, it was gone, leaving him quite himself again.  
'Not to worry, dear one.' He said, his high, unnerving giggle creeping into his voice. 'Just a little messenger, whispering in my ears.' he grinned in her direction, seeming to look through her. 'Good news, dearie! You may be home soon. Your father, who is every bit as determined to find you as you said, by the way, has set fire to most of his land. Poppies are burning, black smoke fills the air and the winds carry the scent of desperation far and wide. He vows that no man on earth shall have relief from suffering whilst he feels the loss of his daughter. Shouldn't be long now, remember!' he exclaimed, lifting a finger in emphasis, 'I am not the only magical creature that responds to desperation!' He laughed. Gleefully and horribly. 'It takes a certain _type_ of hopelessness to flush out what I seek.'  
Belle tore the hand, that still grasped one of his, away in horror. 'You...you were _trying_ to drive my poor Papa mad with despair? To make him destroy the livelihood that our entire town depends on? There is a war on, Rumpelstiltskin! Men, brave men are losing their limbs and the only respite from pain that they have is from the poppy seeds. How can you inflict such agony and _laugh?_...and how could my Papa do such a dreadful thing?'  
'Simply through his love for you, child.'  
Belle spun around at the sound of a woman’s voice from the high window, across the room.  
Rumpelstiltskin gave a happy squeal and said 'Ah! Rheul Gorm. I was _hoping_ you'd drop by.'  
The fairy, who hovered just at Belle's head height, sent a withering glance at him, but addressed Belle.  
'It's been so long since I saw you, you were just a babe in arms when I last kissed you.' And she floated nearer and gently bussed Belle on the forehead. 'What a beauty you have become.' She spoke with such fondness in her voice that the young woman could do no more than stare at the tiny, flittering creature in bewilderment.  
'Will you be bringing dear old Maurice here or shall we go to him? It'll be such a _lovely_ family reunion.' drawled the Dark One.  
The Blue Fairy turned on him. 'Trust you, Rumpelstiltskin, to turn my innocent girl's life upside down to fulfill your twisted agenda! I know what you have been doing, the curse to end all curses! Well it won't work!'  
'If you hadn't have been so particular in avoiding me, you little flying insect, it wouldn't have been necessary!' The imp snapped. 'You should consider showing your face more than once every twenty years and not have such a strict criteria! If I were to go around being particular about the _kind_ of human misery I respond to, I'd never make any deals!' He clicked his fingers twice, and in a cloud of purple smoke, Belle's father landed in a heap on the floor.  
Belle rushed to him and his arms went around her in the way that only a loving parent _can_ hold a child.  
Maurice looked over Belle's head at the other occupants of the room. Scowling at Rumpelstiltskin and catching his breath at the sight of the fairy.  
'Stella!' he exclaimed. 'I thought you said you couldn't...' he broke off, staring at her.  
The fairy fluttered closer to the embracing pair. 'Maurice, the price was that I should not be a mother to my child.' Her tiny hand gently stroked Belle's hair, she said sadly, 'and I have not been.' She looked at Rumpelstiltskin. 'How did you find out? I took such care.'  
The imp skipped and wrung his hands in delight. 'Not enough! Names have power, dearie. You cannot escape yours. You may have taken on human form and face to breed that little treasure,' he indicated Belle, 'but your name could only be disguised...not changed and her lineage is clear in her eyes.' He bowed towards the three, secure in his own cleverness. 'I happened to be in the neighborhood making a deal and I saw your blue eyed beauty frolicking in a creek. I knew as soon as I discovered her mother’s human name.'


	4. Chapter 4

The little fairy was enraged. Magic, the colour of silver, spilled from her wings..  
'You have my attention _now_ , Dark One. You will return my daughter to her to father, having ruined her?' she fluttered her wings in her agitation. 'Isn't it _enough_ that I must go through the world never knowing her as mine? That I had to wrench myself away when she still needed me, just because I obeyed my fairy nature and tried to aid your son?' She turned to Belle, who had lowered herself to sit on the floor, shocked speechless by the revelations going on about her. 'My own dear girl. Many years ago, I answered a call of desperation from the Rumpelstiltskin's son- a desperation born of love. I am a fairy, we _cannot_ resist such a plea. My blessing to him resulted in him being taken to another land, away from his father. All magic comes with a price. The price I have had to pay was that once you were born, I should have to leave you, that we must be separated.'   
Belle broke down, noisily sobbing into her father's shoulder.  
Maurice spoke softly into her ear. 'Sweetheart, it'll be alright.' he crooned. Belle lifted her red, tear streaked face to look into his eyes.   
'How can it be alright, Papa? My mother...a fairy? I don't even see how that is possible!' She ignored her father's sudden blush and forged on. 'That Rumpelstiltskin lost his son, I have lost my mother and countless hundreds of men have lost any hope of relief from their pain. _How_ can that be alright? There is no resolution...only more pain, more desperation. It isn't _right_!' Belle turned on her mother. 'What do you mean 'ruined?' do you think that because he looks like a monster that he must always behave as one? Rumpelstiltskin hasn't touched me.' she said, indignant on his behalf.  
'It's what people will think though, my dear.' said Rumpelstiltskin, 'No one will believe that I'd have taken you and not brought you to my bed- not looking as you do at any rate.' He raised his hand to silence her when she would have interrupted. 'It doesn't matter how hotly you'd deny it, very soon the common folk would shun you, some refusing to work for your father and very soon ruin would follow. It is the way of ignorance and fear.'  
'You'll have to marry her.' said the blue fairy, unexpectedly. Belle whipped round to face her mother so quickly her neck ached.  
Maurice exploded. 'What?! Never! I will not have my daughter shackled to this...beast. We'll just have to be brave and go back. It may not be so bad, they are good people and what with the war...things may just go back to normal.'  
Rumpelstiltskin said nothing, just stared at Belle as though an idea were taking root in his head.  
Belle opened her mouth to interject but Rheul Gorm flew around Maurice's head and beat her to it. 'She is half fairy, Maurice! Now that she knows it, she may start manifesting magic! You know how the humans fear power, how they drive it out because they cannot understand it. If she starts manifesting after returning from nigh on six months in the Dark Castle, there isn't a soul who will believe she's untainted. The clerics will hound her and there isn't a thing I can do to protect her because I _cannot_ be a mother to her! They're already fit to kill _you_ for burning the fields and punishing them for her disappearance. No one, nobody at all would raise so much as a whisper against Rumpelstiltskin's bride. She'd be _safe_ , that's all that matters. Safe!'  
'He'll not do it.' Maurice said, weakly making his way to a chair.  
Belle was about to firmly protest that this was _her_ life they were blithely discussing, when Rumpelstiltskin did something so very astounding that she quite forgot all about it.  
'Yes, I will.' said the Dark One calmly, breaking his uncharacteristic silence.  
'What?' exclaimed her father.  
Rumpelstiltskin looked scornfully at the squire. 'You aren't deaf, dearie. I'll marry her, she is after all _innocent_ of wrongdoing.'  
Belle, unable to tear her gaze from Rumpelstiltskin spoke. 'Why would you do this for me?'  
He shrugged. 'Your company is not...arduous, my dear. If I'm going to be accused by all and sundry that I've debauched a beautiful maiden, I might as well do it.'   
Predictably, Maurice responded to that baited hook. 'Oh no! Rumpelstiltskin! Marry her, I suppose you must, but she'll return home with me. Your name will be protection enough.'  
Rumpelstiltskin looked as though he was beginning to enjoy herself. 'But what of my husbandly rights? Even I can't do the job from all that distance.'  
Belle, whose colour was nearly as high as her father's interjected. 'All of this is completely irrelevant unless I agree to a wedding.'   
Her mother flitted closer. 'Well... do you? I'll not let anyone force you, but it would be for the best.'  
Belle ignored her. 'Rumpelstiltskin, did you know that taking me would put me in danger in my homeland? I know you always intended my return there, but could you have known what people would say and taken me anyway?'  
He chose his words carefully, pausing momentarily before responding. 'I hadn't anticipated _caring_ about what might happen to you afterwards. Had I thought about it, I might have known- people are so very predictable- but I didn't. I was solely intent on punishing your mother.' His voice was low and meant only for her ears.  
'For your son.' murmured Belle, trying to take it all in.   
He nodded once and looked at his hands, 'Baelfire.'  
'If I agree to be your wife, will you grant me a favour? Will you, please, see to it that the poppies grow again? I don't wish there to be more suffering because of me.'   
'Yes.' he said. She trusted his word, it was all he needed to say.  
'I still want her to come home with me!' Maurice was stubborn and turned to the silent Rheul Gorm for support. 'He doesn't need her here, she'll be safe- she doesn't need to stay!'  
The blue fairy nodded. 'What you say is true, she could be safe enough at home. Rumpelstiltskin, will you allow her to return with her father- protected from a distance with by her alliance with you?'  
'That would depend on you, fairy. Can you send me to my son? Conjure up another of those beans? The only way I will consent to your daughter going about her life bearing my name but not my company is to remove me to another world. Surely you can do that, in the interest of saving your daughter from a beast?'  
The winged creature shook her head. 'Even if I did, Rumpelstiltskin, your magic would not allow you to pass through.'  
'It would not have stopped me before!' he snarled at her, raising his hands.  
She flitted away. 'Your magic has strengthened, Dark One. You have too much power, it would corrupt and destroy the portal.'  
'Then I will keep her. If I cannot have my son, _I will have her._  
'Rumpelstiltskin' protested Belle, weakly.  
'No!' Boomed Maurice, 'You know what he will do to her.'  
Rumpelstiltskin tittered, 'Probably something similar to what the insect did to you.' he quipped. He winked at Belle, who was looking at her father's embarrassed expression with a slightly sickened fascination. 'I'm sure there is a book around here on the mating habits of fairies...shall I get it down for you, my dear?'  
Maurice pleaded with Rheul Gorm. 'Stella, if she stays with _him_ I'll burn every field I own, even if he regrows them. The suffering will prevail, you will be so busy your wings will wear out. Do something!' he threatened.  
'Papa!' Belle was disgusted. 'You'd hurt so many people, knowingly?'  
Maurice looked grim. 'I'm your father, girl. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you.'  
Silence reigned in the library for several long, tense minutes. Belle was utterly bewildered by the happenings of the last hour, her mother flew close to her and laid her head on Belle's wrist. For the first time in her life, Belle felt the love of her mother. She wept. Seeing her tears, the fairy patted her hand.  
'Perhaps a deal can be made.' She said.  
Rumpelstiltskin's ears pricked up. 'Such as?'  
'If you will end the war, for six months of the year Belle will live with you, here. For the remainder, she will return to her father...perhaps when the poppies ripen. In exchange, I will give you another bean. It will not let you pass through the portal, but perhaps you can find a solution to that. It would at least show you where your boy is, watching Belle from afar has been my one comfort.' She looked fondly at her daughter.  
'Deal!' Rumpelstiltskin did not hop or skip in glee, he looked over, with something like regret, to Belle, who had hidden her face in her hands. The blue fairy looked over at Maurice, who nodded grimly, his face lined with worry. It was not quite a truce, but it was certainly farther away from hatred than they had been.  
'Very well, then. Its been decided.'


	5. Chapter 5

The Lady Belle was angry. She wandered through the regrown fields of poppies watching the workers. The Ogre War had been ended, the men returned and the divisions of rank and gender conscientiously thrown up higher than ever. It infuriated her. The same women who had sat in a circle with her, sorting poppies, and happily chattering away now averted their eyes at her approach. Dipping a respectful, _distancing_ curtsey if she spoke to them.

Except, in some ways, it was worse now. She was not just the Lady Belle, Sir Maurice's only daughter, she was the Lady Belle, wife of the most feared man in any kingdom- who was no less fearful since driving the ogres into the sea with the aid of a bullrush pipe. Those women who waited on her in the keep, could not be drawn into merry talk, the maids were too fearful that if they offended her, Rumpelstiltskin himself would appear behind them and hang them by their careless tongues.  
The entire situation was ridiculous. She was a wife without actually _being_ a wife, she had stayed a week with Rumpelstiltskin after the wedding, before he whisked her back to her father's home on the winds. Her husband had been quiet but distracted, she knew for certain that as soon as she was gone, he'd spend six months poring over that white bean her mother had handed him. He'd work without sleep or food, she supposed, trying to reach his son. 

Rumpelstiltskin told her about him, at her gentle prodding one cosy evening- not in great detail, but the pain of separation was still an open wound for him, even after centuries had passed. Reading between the lines of what he did not say, his wife guessed that this new, faint hope was tearing at him. Belle privately thought that his single minded devotion to his son was endearing, and rather wished he could spare a small particle of that loyal heart for her. To earn, to be worthy of such a man's devotion! That would be something indeed.

She knew that he was fond of her, in as much as he could be fond of anyone who wasn't Baelfire. That was why he'd offered to marry her, well...that and remorse. He hadn't wanted to see her ruined, either, which was showed compassion in the Dark One that she had not thought to see before she got to know him. 

She wished so much that any one of the three other people in that library had thought to ask her what she wanted. Her mother, father and husband were so pleased to have reached an amicable solution that suited them all! They may have been shocked to know that she did not wish to spend her life half a daughter and half a wife, neither having a permanent place to call home nor even one single closet of clothes that were always hers. When she had lived with Rumpelstiltskin, he provided beautiful, luxurious clothing that befitted his wife, in her father's home she dressed in the simple, maidenly apparel that she had always worn. 

Her anger and bitter disappointment had been slowly building since she bid farewell to both her husband and her mother before returning home. The Blue Fairy had said a melancholy goodbye to her daughter, saying that she hoped she might see her happy when she watched her through her reflection, sometimes. Belle understood that it was the nature of fairies to bring happiness and hope when there was sadness and desperation, as such they could only visit the mortal realms when there was enough desolation to warrant it. It was the way of things. She did not resent the Blue Fairy but neither did she think of her as a mother- Rumpelstiltskin obviously shared a long and tempestuous history with her and Belle found her loyalty rested with her husband rather than the tiny, winged creature who had birthed her.

It had only taken a week, but Belle was aware that she would be leaving a large chunk of her heart behind when she returned to her Papa. 

Half a life. Half a heart. 

It had been _decided._ She swatted a hand across the poppy heads, scattering the petals.

Belle made her way to the place in the poppy field where Rumpelstiltskin had taken her from. She remembered his bruising grip on her arms and smiled slightly when she realised that since then, when he touched her, he had been nothing but utterly, deliberately gentle. The crack in the ground, knee deep, still remained where it was, left unhealed when Rumpelstiltskin had regrown this years harvest, a harvest that her Papa had wantonly destroyed. She was still angry about that too. Anger born out of disappointment that the father she had always adored, should be so callous in his care of their people.

She thought back on that last conversation with her elusive husband, in his workroom, high up in the castle's tallest tower. It was the first time she had been in there and she looked around at the array of bottles and strange implements with interest. 

An apple rested on a bench and she smiled at its bright cheery colour.

'No wonder you forget to come down for dinner, Rumpelstiltskin, if you keep snacks around in here.'

He had been staring out of the window and turned at her voice, smiling slightly when he saw to what she referred.

'That's not the kind of snack that's healthy to have, my dear.' He wandered over and took it gently from her hands. 'This apple contains enough magic to sign over a soul to me. Not pleasant for the person who eats it, imagine being bound to _me_ for all eternity and all for a quick bite!' Belle frowned and he hastened to reassure her. 'Fret not dearie, I didn't make this for me to use on anyone, its for a Queen- or a princess, depending on your point of view, I suppose.'

He put the apple back on the bench carefully, so as not to bruise the fruit and turned back to the window.

'The skies are clear, my lady- the sun will shine on your return home.'

Without thinking on it too much, Belle impulsively picked up the apple again and slipped it into the pocket of her voluminous skirts. She wandered over and put her lips softly on Rumpelstiltskin's cheek. He raised a hand to the spot she had kissed and bowed. It touched her, even after a week of marriage, that he was always so surprised that she tried to be affectionate towards him. It was painfully obvious to her, that since he lost his son, he had loved no one and nobody had loved him.

Now, three months later, she stood in the spot where he had first touched her and withdrew the apple from her pocket and looked at it. It was a thing of beauty, such smooth, rich colour. She had been thinking of little else for the past week. Why had she acted on impulse and taken it? Simple, feminine jealousy? Did she dislike the thought that he would own the soul of some fair princess? Did she want to be the only one he wanted? Part of her tried to whisper that she had only been acting in the poor victims interests but her innate honesty forced her to squash the thought. 

She looked behind her for a moment, a pair of workers were steadily filling their sacks and coming down the row towards her. 

She brought the apple up to her lips and whispered, 'No one decides my fate but me.' and with that she took a bite, hoping fervently that her actions might be enough to keep her with Rumpelstiltskin forever.

\-------

She felt no pain. There was nothing. Neither darkness nor light. No sound, nor smell, taste or feeling. Belle had neither memory nor imagination to comfort her after that single bite. She was aware that time passed, but could not grasp how quickly. 

Belle was freed from the trap of her own mind, by the feeling of cool firm lips on hers. Instinctively she brought a hand up to cradle the head of the owner of that lovely mouth. It was Rumpelstiltskin. She had known that it would be he that saved her, even when in her own cursed mind, she had felt that she _could_ not be saved.  
She pressed her lips to his a little more fervently and he let out a choked groan before pulling away slightly. He moved his head to the side slightly and murmured in her ear, ‘do you think we could continue this another time, dearie- your mother and father are standing by, and I think _he_ wants to stick a knife in my back, already.'  
She flushed and accepted his hand to pull herself up. 

Maurice, with the Blue Fairy on his shoulder strode over to his daughter. He would have embraced her, but Belle refused to let go of Rumpelstiltskin's hand- so her father awkwardly patted her shoulder instead. 

Then it hit her.

The hand that was in hers was not rough and golden, the nails were not blackened and claw like. He'd _changed_.

'R...Rumpelstiltskin? It _is_ you, is it not?'

'Aye, it's me, love. Ready and waiting to take you task for taking years off my life. Quite literally, if the curse breaking light display that we just had is anything to go by.'  
'Oh.' She said, 'I didn't, I didn't mean to do anything that would make you angry! I was...I just didn't want to spend the rest of my life caught between my love for my father and my love for my husband. It is miserable.'

Rumpelstiltskin nodded, to her surprise seeming to accept that she loved him without any difficulty. She stared at his face, so different and yet, somehow, so dearly familiar!  
The Blue Fairy hopped off Maurice's shoulder. 'Rumpelstiltskin!' she said kindly. 'After all this time, you have finally learnt to love another person more than you love your power. You have broken the original curse that was put on the Dark One. You saved my daughter's life, giving up your power for her. You have my blessing.'

Belle looked at Rumpelstiltskin, mouth agog. 'Gave up...your magic? How? I don't understand.'

He raised her hand to his lips and hesitated. 'Your father found you lying here, that blasted apple lying on the ground beside you, I'm sorry. I thought that half the year away from me would be what you wanted, I thought I'd have to drag you back to live with me, the monster. I didn't ask you what you wanted, because I was afraid of the answer. Afraid of everything actually. Maurice called for your Mother, who recognised the magic in the apple and summoned me. The apple contained a powerful sleeping curse, only True Love’s Kiss could awaken you from it and True Love’s Kiss is the most powerful magic of all, it can break any curse...even mine.'

He shifted slightly, leaning on her shoulder for support as though his leg pained him. He was truly human. She didn't need him to declare his love for her. Belle already knew, it was evident in the change that had taken place, both physically and in his gentler, almost shy expression.

'Is this really what you want, Belle?' asked her Papa, 'with...with him?'

'Oh yes, Papa! I want to be his wife, I _am_ his wife. It doesn't mean I don't love you, you will always be my own dear Papa- I know you by heart, you are _inside_ my heart.'

Sir Maurice's eyes were moist as he looked down at his beloved daughter, he turned to the Blue Fairy. 'Very well, do it.'

Rheul Gorm held out a white bean and offered it to Rumpelstiltskin. 'You can pass through now, Rumpelstiltskin. My blessing to you is this. If Belle will willingly go with you, giving up her fairy heritage- this portal will take you directly to where your son is. You will have memories of a good prosperous life and you can live a happy life together. The choice is yours.'

Rumpelstiltskin took the bean, he looked terrified. His hands shook and so did his voice when he turned to his wife. 'Will you, Belle? Could you? The last time I could have done this my fear held me back and now I find that I have a new fear, of losing you. I have lived lifetimes of regret- not being able to let go of my power, just needing to get more, it was never enough. I think, I think...I could be braver, if I was being brave with you.'

Belle looked at him. His voice was slightly lower like this, smooth to her ears and had the slightest lilt- it was very pleasant. 

'Yes. _Yes_ , I will go with you. I will go with you forever, if you want me to.' She let go of his hand for a moment to embrace her father. 'Farewell, Papa. I love you- but I love him too. He needs me.'

Maurice could hardly speak, but he nodded and kissed her, turning away when his tears threatened to unman him.

Rumpelstiltskin was pale but almost smiling when he took her hand again, he was about to throw the bean into the fertile soil when he stopped, and tilted his head towards Belle's mother. 

'Living as Lady Caeruleus may be possible for you now, the price of the magic has been paid- there is balance. Think on it.'

Maurice's eyes widened and if possible, the cerulean glow about the Blue Fairy brightened.

Rumpelstiltskin, holding on to Belle's hand as if his life depended on it, threw the bean into the ground. It landed in the crack in the earth and a shimmering portal grew from it and widened.

Belle found herself pulled tightly against her husband's chest. 'Don't let go, Belle. Please, my darling, don't let go.'

And then they jumped.

\-------------------------------------

The weather had turned cold recently, the ground was certainly frozen enough for snow to settle on, if the threatening grey clouds _did_ ever open. A biting wind whistled its way around trees and rocks, causing anyone in its way to shiver and pull their clothing tighter about them.

The sun did not shine today, obscured as it was by snow clouds, the sky seemed dark and bleak. The locals would not venture out of doors today, if they did not absolutely have to.

A man and a woman, defying this local wisdom, made their way slowly along a lane, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Their progress was slowed both by the limping gait of the suited man and the determination of the young woman at his side to stop now and then and bestow a great many kisses on his mouth.

Eventually, the unlikely looking pair came within sight of a house. It was not a large house, but twinkling lights shone out of the frost covered windows and against the darkness of the day, it looked welcoming and warm. 

A field lay to the side of the property, in it were a small herd of sheep, the man with a cane smiled slightly at this. His face was worn and pallid but a hopeful light shone in his eyes. The lady couldn't seem to stop smiling, hers was a countenance that was most beautiful when she was happy, and today of all days- she was in a merry mood indeed.  
The couple approached the door of the house, painted a cheerful shade of red, upon which hung a round wreath of evergreen foliage- topped off by a tartan bow.  
The man raised his cane to the door, as if to knock, but at the last moment, his courage failed him. The lady shook her head fondly and raised herself up on tip toes, kissing him on the nose. Neither of them spoke, but they both seemed to know that it would be she who broke the wintery stillness by rapping smartly on the door. Having done so, she stepped back slightly and they both waited, tense, for a response.

Quick footsteps could be heard in the passage way behind the door and the latch clicked open. Warmth, and the delightful scent of christmas spices wafted out into the cold as a dark haired man opened the door. 

He had a sweet face, in as much as any mans face _can_ be termed sweet. He raised his eyebrows in polite enquiry at the short, expensively clad, woman on his doorstep. She was not looking at him though, her face was turned towards her companion, who stared at the man in the doorway as though he held the key to eternal happiness in his hand. Perhaps he did.

They stared at each other for many moments, in shocked recognition, before the younger man lurched forwards, unsteady on his feet and cast his arms around the other.  
'Papa!' he sobbed, smiling through his tears.

Large snowflakes began to fall, thick and fast, filling the sky. The lady, who was crying too by now- had the good sense to usher the men into the warm house and closed the door, very softly, behind her.

The END


End file.
